


The Falls of Winter

by themoonandmargot



Category: Smosh
Genre: All The Tropes, Domestic Fluff, Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, M/M, New Year's Eve, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandmargot/pseuds/themoonandmargot
Summary: It’s not the fall that hurts. No, the fall doesn’t hurt at all. Looking over the side of the cliff, though? Nothing terrifies them more.





	The Falls of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to Mikey aka @sweethearthaas on Tumblr! She won a 2k fic for my follower giveaway, but as you can see, that word count grew quite a bit ;) Hope you enjoy reading!

It’s one of the steepest mountains Damien has ever stood atop. Wind ruffling his hair, he peers down the side and clicks his boots into place. Between the trees, crisp snow sits, smooth and sparkling, awaiting a day of fun. For someone who hasn’t snowboarded in over a decade, Damien finds that he isn’t nearly afraid enough for what he’s about to do, yet that’s what entices him the most.

He presses his left foot into his board, sending him down the incline. He’s gliding, soaring through the wind and snow when he hears the scritch of a moving snowboard behind him. It’s Shayne, pulling up next to him and waving his way.

“Hey!” his friend calls, smile wide amongst his headgear. “Not a bad way to spend Christmas, huh?”

“Only if I beat you down this hill,” Damien yells. He hears Shayne guffaw as they both look towards the path before them. It’s about now that Damien would expect the crystallized air to fill his lungs, or for his grinning face to crack in the cold of the winter, except Damien’s not sure if he feels cold at all.

An extreme case of hypothermia, Damien presumes with a disturbing lack of concern.

Then it’s Shayne who’s screaming his name as Damien approaches some snag in the snow (why didn’t he see it? where was he looking?), and the mountain falls out from underneath his board. He sees white, then blue, then black—and it doesn’t hurt, but he’s just now starting to feel it: fear. Without a word in his throat, he falls and falls and–

 _Shit!_ Damien wakes with a shudder, and it takes a moment for the cracks in the ceiling to ease his mind. He sinks back into his side of the mattress, then glances at the other. Fortunately for his ego, it’s empty… except he’s still not alone.

“You alright?” Shayne asks from a place Damien can’t see. Damien lifts his head just barely off the pillow to spot Shayne sitting at a desk in the corner. They meet eyes, and as Damien drops his head back down, he hears Shayne shift in his seat.

“Uh… I had a dream. Bad dream,” Damien says. “Or I guess, it was good at first. We were where we’re supposed to be. Up in the mountains.”

“What happened?”

“Well, our Airbnb flaked on us,” Damien snorts, sitting up in bed and tossing his legs over the side. “But I’m assuming you’re talking about the dream.”

Shayne interprets Damien’s pointed smile as him being bitter. He cards his fingers through his hair and heaves, “Dude, I _tried_ calling the Airbnb people and–”

“I’m not saying it’s your fault. I know it’s not. You’re fine, dude.” Damien smiles at Shayne again, this time with unambiguous sincerity. “But in the dream,” he continues, “we were going down that mountain, and I just… fell. Absolutely ate it.”

The corner of Shayne’s mouth pulls into a smirk. “Sounds about right.”

Shayne laughs, accepting the pillow thrown at him from across the room. “Oh, whatever!” Damien sputters before crossing his arms in fake-defiance. “Keep being mean to me and I’ll break up with you.”

“Ha-ha,” Shayne mocks. As Damien follows, Shayne gets to his feet and looms near the bedroom door. He stops himself from turning the handle the moment he thinks of something witty. “Give it a week and you won’t have to,” he says. He allows no time for Damien to react before pushing open the door.

_It’s showtime._

~

“A week?”

A twenty-something woman of vague Filipino-Japanese descent, Aubrey sits slackjawed across the two. She composes herself, shutting her mouth and propping her fork against her plate, before folding her arms onto the table.

“Guys, I get this is a weird sort of circumstance we’re in, but I think you’d understand if I told you that I’m not sure I’m comfortable with having two strangers in my house for an entire week.”

“We do understand. For sure,” Damien assures. “And we’ve been trying to find a hotel, motel, whatever, but...”

“They’re all full for New Year’s,” Aubrey murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. “Vegas always gets a bit crowded around this time of year.”

“Yeah. You’d definitely know better than us,” Shayne says, the end of his sentence collapsing on itself. He and Damien chew in silence as Aubrey sips her cocoa and thinks. The pause makes the two uneasy and they continue the conversation in a half-hearted attempt to stand their ground.

“We’ll bounce if you want us to, though,” Damien says.

“Yeah, we’ll figure shit out if we have to. We’re not your responsibility,” Shayne adds. “Either way, we’re already grateful for your help. Not everyone would help guys like _us_ , y’know.”

Aubrey’s gaze falls from her kitchen backsplash to the two men before her. She senses the subtle request in Shayne’s words, though she has yet to determine exactly who she’s letting into her house. Weirdly enough, she finds herself willing to take the plunge. It’s a dangerous experiment, yes, and she’s never been the type to welcome risk. _But New Year’s in Las Vegas would be the perfect time to do exactly that, wouldn’t it?_

The emotion drained from her eyes, Aubrey studies them before cocking her head. “I think help could go both ways,” she says. “Either of you take down Christmas lights before?”

~

If Shayne looks up for a second longer, he may go blind.

He blames the clouds, turning the sky a powdery, eye-burning white. He can’t exactly avoid it, though, not with the very real possibility of Damien stumbling and careening off Aubrey’s roof. How lame would it be for Damien to straight up die during the one second Shayne wasn’t spotting him? Very lame, Shayne decides.

He bears the filtered light of the sun and squints upwards. “You alright?” he asks.

Damien teeters on one foot as he reaches for a reindeer decoration on a far windowsill. “How’d she even get this up here?” he gruffs before losing his balance. He stomps the shingles to steady himself and Shayne doesn’t realize he has arms up to catch him until they meet eyes.

“I’m starting to regret ever coming here,” Damien says, slight panic in his voice.

“We’re fine,” Shayne says, though he’s not sure if he believes it himself. “Just stay there and don’t die. I’m gonna ask Aubrey how we can get that…” Shayne frowns at the window. “...fucking Rudolph.”

He dismisses Damien’s protests and walks into the house, where Aubrey is enjoying what sounds like a Netflix show on the TV. She stirs from her comfy position on the couch and glances at him. “Hey,” she greets.

“Hey,” Shayne echoes, slightly annoyed. “Uh, is there a better way of getting that reindeer off your window? We took down everything else, but Damien almost just fell off your roof.”

“He’s on the roof? I just figured those sounds I was hearing were ghosts.” Aubrey pulls a remote out from under her throw blanket and pauses her show before pushing herself onto her feet. She treads to the staircase while Shayne, full of concern by her lack thereof, follows in tow.

“So,” she says on the third step, “how did you and Damien meet?”

Shayne looks up, alarmed by the sudden conversation, then stares back down at his feet. “We’ve known each other for a while,” he answers. “We’ve both been into acting since we were kids, so we usually got caught up in the same troupes and projects and stuff.”

“Oh, _theatre kids_ ,” Aubrey drawls, as if finally comprehending a great truth. “And I’m assuming you were friends the moment you met?”

“Eh, well. Everyone always starts off really shy, and Damien and I were really, _really_ shy. But it didn’t take all that long for us to click, y’know? Our sense of humor is practically the same. The two of us in general, we’re practically the same.”

Aubrey nods, taking time to think. Their footsteps reach the top of the stairs and lead into a room similar to the room the guys are staying in, except more homey, with a collection of furniture and knick-knacks. Shayne perceives it as Aubrey’s bedroom.

Before he can react, she turns to him with a curious sparkle behind her eyes. “So you must’ve proved the whole ‘opposites attract’ thing wrong, didn’t you?”

 _Oh._ Shayne sees the conversation for what it is now, and he scratches his neck as he provides an answer that lies uncomfortably close to the truth.

“I guess so. You’d think we’d be sick of each other by now since it seems like it’d just be talking to a mirror, but our relationship is… ever-changing. Like, we have our loud, funny moments but we have our quiet moments, too. And those quiet moments are when you can really tell that… we care for each other in ways that just don’t come across in a casual, friendly relationship.” Shayne pauses, taking in his words only now that they’re out, and he asks Aubrey the very question he has to ask himself: “Does that make sense?”

Aubrey smiles at him. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” she replies. Shayne nearly squirms under the intensity of her gaze, the smugness of it all. But then her eyes soften, and she speaks as if surprised by her own words. “You know, I think you two belong together, though. You’re good for each other. I really mean that.”

Shayne’s not sure if he’s any more comfortable with Aubrey’s sincerity. Shayne can’t even tell if he should be comfortable with being uncomfortable. Before he crumples under his self-inflicted torment, she turns away and clasps her hands together in determination. “Alright, now for Rudolph.”

“You got, like, an extra tall ladder or something?” Shayne asks, following Aubrey to the window. “Or one of those poles with a claw hand at the end?”

“What? No. I was just gonna open the window and grab the reindeer myself.”

In one breath, Aubrey flicks open the blinds and slides the window open. Neither she nor Shayne realize just how startlingly loud the motion is until they pull the reindeer in, peek their heads out the window, and see nothing except an empty roof against a powdery white sky.

~

Damien is sore for the next two days.

Like the good boyfriend he isn’t, Shayne babies him the entire time, fetching ice and occasionally hiding his own laughter behind his hand. Shayne can’t help but find it amusing, the way Damien convinces himself that Las Vegas is cursed.

“Just a few more days and we’re back in LA,” he says while they lay next to each other in the morning, talking, like a married couple with too many worries on their minds. “And be real. You’d be just as sore if we made it to Lee Canyon.”

Eyes shining green in the sunlight, Damien glares at him. “I fell off a _roof_ , Shayne.”

“And you’re still the same bouncing baby boy as before.”

Shayne comes to appreciate the pillow playfully shoved in his face and he rolls out of bed with a smile as wide as Damien’s. The stay smiling the entire time, out the bedroom door and down the stairs, all until Aubrey meets them in the kitchen with a whisk in hand.

“Oh, Jesus, she's gonna whisk us to death,” Shayne jokes. He turns to his friend to catch his reaction, and as expected, Damien’s grinning right back at him.

“Maybe,” Aubrey considers aloud, beating the wire against her open palm. “Though I think I’ve got a bigger problem on my hands, if you can’t already tell.” She gestures over the entirety of her kitchen, littered with a collection of ingredients, dishes, and appliances, and she looks at the boys with wide, expectant eyes.

Damien frowns and wagers a guess. “You have really bad organizational skills?”

“No. And this _is_ organized, excuse you.” Aubrey steps toward the dining table to pick up two empty containers. She shakes them in the air. “I’ve already measured the other dry ingredients for my oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, but I’m out of chocolate chips _and_ old-fashioned oats. Who does that? Who forgets the two ingredients listed in the name of the actual cookie?”

“Yeah, you’re practically a failure,” Shayne sighs, pretend disappointment in his voice.

“Nope, not today,” Aubrey says. She steps forward, an uncomfortably close distance from the two. “You still have gas in your car, right?”

“I mean, probably.”

“Good, because one of us is heading to the Walgreens down the road to pick up those missing ingredients. And I call nose goes.”

Aubrey rests a finger on her nose. Damien follows suit, though the time Shayne takes to react to his loss is the quickest of them all. “Not fair,” he whines, swinging his arms in defeat. “You play video games for a living, so you’re obviously gonna have way faster reflexes than me!”

“You play video games for a living?” Aubrey cries.

“No,” Damien lies, then turns to Shayne with a goading smirk. “Don’t be a sore loser, dude. Just get the dang ol’ oats.”

“And the chocolate chips,” Aubrey adds.

“I’m not being a sore loser, I’m just–”

“Someone with a smelly controller? Oh, yeah, I’m sure it does smell, buddy.”

Laughing the entire time, Shayne lets Damien place his hands on him and push him towards the door. “I hate you so much,” he giggles once he’s turned around and facing Damien at the doorway.

“You don’t look like someone who hates me,” Damien snickers.

“Well, I do. I actually loathe you.”

“Aw. In that case, I loathe you, too, baby.”

Damien steps back, laughing as Shayne screws up his face and shuts the door between them. He’s still smiling when he meets Aubrey in the kitchen. “Sorry about that. Shayne can be a bit of a dummy sometimes,” he chuckles before cocking his head. “But he’s my dummy, I guess.”

Turned towards the stove, Aubrey looks over her shoulder and glances at Damien. “Eh, it’s all good. I think it’s cute.”

Damien shuts his mouth. He would’ve asked Aubrey if she needed any help had she not just plunged him into a giant, isolated vat of awkwardness. He lingers nears the dinner table until she says another thing that makes him question everything. “Which one of you made the first move?”

He watches Aubrey closely now, notices the way she keeps her back turned on him even when it’s obvious nothing can concern her more than his answer. As reluctant as he is, Damien chooses his words, then inhales. “Uh, Shayne did,” he lies. “He just… asked me out, and I said yes.”

Aubrey pushes Damien further while he tries to get the fishy taste out his mouth. “Just like that, huh? Just one little question and your life changed for the better?” The stove beeps under her finger before she whips around and joins Damien at the kitchen table. “Knowing you two and the crazy stuff you’ve done, I was only assuming that that first move was a lot more…” Aubrey presses her lips together and shrugs. “...extravagant.”

“We’re simple guys,” Damien titters, but the wildness of their plan sinks back into his mind just to slap him across the face. It makes him panic, and as a result he blurts something that holds an uncomfortable amount of truth to it: “We’re set as long as we have each other.”

“That’s sweet.” Aubrey smiles, eyes shyly flickering up to look at Damien before settling on the flour dusted across the table. Her behavior makes the air shift in an odd, tense way, even more so when she moves to push her fingertip through the powder. Damien can’t tell if she’s ignoring the fact that he’s watching her, or if she’s just that stuck in her head. Either way, she takes a moment before breaking the silence with a sigh.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting any visitors for New Year’s. Especially not two random white guys from Los Angeles,” she titters, barely embarrassed. “But when I heard you two were together? I dunno, a gay couple trying to find somewhere warm to stay during the most hectic time of the year… I mean, I doubt the people here would give two shits about who you are, because we’re _us_ , after all. City of sin and bad decisions and… lots of annoying health nuts, probably. But standing with you in that hotel lobby, where you both just looked so distraught and worried, like you’d just walked through hell and you still weren’t sure if you could make it back… Maybe it was dumb or presumptuous of me to do—probably just dumb—but I couldn’t let myself walk away. I _had_ to take you in. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t.”

Aubrey swallows. Her gaze shifts upward as she draws her finger from the table and wipes it against her pants. “And anyway,” she says, “I’d be a lot more scared of letting you both into my house if you were straight. Just being real here. Straight cis guys, am I right?”

Damien looks up from his lap to see a familiar look on Aubrey’s face, confident and unashamed, though he wonders just how much of it is for show. The Aubrey who took them in, the Aubrey who couldn’t walk away, the Aubrey who genuinely cares… Damien thinks he might’ve failed to remember that version of Aubrey all along. Worse, he worries that that’s the version of Aubrey he’s been manipulating and lying to.

It’s a lot to think about, but all Damien can do for now is forge a smile. “Totally.”

Shayne returns home in fifteen minutes—ten more minutes than what Aubrey was originally expecting—though he makes a good argument when he explains that she never really told him that the Walgreens “down the street” was actually down the street, around the corner, a mile away, and hidden behind a row of Chinese food joints. Aubrey partially forgives him, then fully when he hands over the plastic bag of ingredients.

The oven finishes preheating long before Aubrey adds a cup of oats to her bowl, yet the three of them take their time mixing everything together and hand-rolling the cookie dough into less-than-perfect spheres. There are the inevitable “ball” jokes, and clothes smeared with batter, and elbows jammed into ribs at the dishwashing sink, but they learn it’s all worth it once Aubrey pulls the trays out the oven and joins the guys for warm-cookies-on-the-couch time.

“This is great, Aubrey. I thought I didn’t like oatmeal cookies,” Shayne says, mouth full.

“No, what you don’t like are oatmeal- _raisin_ cookies,” Aubrey counters. “But once you take out the bullshit and put in chocolate?” She tosses a kiss into the air. “Actual magic.”

“Why was making these so important in the first place?” Damien asks. “I mean, I know it’s the holidays and… baking, and all. But why really did you need to make them?”

“You _gotta_ make cookies for New Year’s,” Aubrey says, splitting a cookie between her fingers. “If not for sugar, how else would you stay up ‘til midnight on a Monday night?”

Damien and Shayne exchange looks. “We’re doing stuff for New Year’s?” Shayne asks.

“I mean… yeah. Wait, did I never tell you guys about that?” Aubrey sits up in her seat to watch the others’ faces, then laughs. “Oh god, you’re in for a treat. Alcohol, horribly underdressed people, and music that’s almost bound to make you go deaf by the end of the night. That’s New Year’s on the Strip, my dudes. Not to mention, it’d be an amazing place to have your New Year’s kiss.”

 _Oh, shit, she’s right_ , Damien panics, his face losing color. He looks at Shayne, already staring back.

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” Shayne says. He does a good job at masking any hint of unease in his voice, though Damien knows he’s screaming just as loudly in his head.

“It’ll be an experience, for sure,” Aubrey promises, pointing a cookie in the air before chomping down half of it. “Better than any dumb, old Airbnb cabin.”

~

An hour after switching off the lights, Damien breaks the silence. “Aubrey is actually really nice,” he murmurs through the darkness.

“Well, yeah.” Shayne cranes his neck against his pillow. “She did let two random guys stay at her house during the holidays.”

“Yeah, but… Doesn’t that mean we’re bad for lying to her about who we are?”

Shayne’s voice softens. “We didn’t do this because we thought it was good, Damien. I feel bad about lying, too. But I literally had no idea what else to do. There was no way we were finding ourselves a hotel room. We weren’t driving back to LA. We weren’t gonna camp it out in the car. But we could make some random girl pity a gay couple, because… straight cis guys, am I right?”

Damien sighs. “I guess. We’re sort of proving the stereotype right by doing this, though.”

While listening to the sounds around them, they chew on the thought for a moment. The cars rolling down the street outside, Aubrey watching TV downstairs in the comfort of her own home—everyone around them seems so free, yet here there are, trapped in the confines of a double bed and the entire narrative they’ve crafted for themselves. Damien’s tired of it, tired of pretending and lying and sleeping on the furthest end of the mattress, and he says so.

He flips onto his side, nestling his head inside the crook of his arm. He stares at Shayne and Shayne turns to stare back.

“We should tell her the truth,” Damien says.

“I agree.”

“Great.”

“On the last day.”

Damien feels his nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath. “Why on the last day? We should tell her now. What’s the use of prolonging this for another day?”

“We can’t risk being kicked out, not now. And I know that’s selfish to say, and I know this entire situation sucks–“

“It would suck regardless of whether or not she knew we weren’t dating. So we should just tell her the truth and stick out whatever happens.”

“But what about New Year’s?”

“What _about_ New Year’s?” Damien sputters. “Dude, this vacation is so irrevocably messed up that having a normal, decent New Year’s is almost completely out of the question.” Damien pauses, upset by the truth of his words. “And the kiss! I know the idea of that New Year’s kiss freaks us out. But if we tell her the truth now, we don’t have to have to think about it. No worries, problem solved.”

Shayne swallows, eyes steady on Damien. He moves to lay on his back. “You don't wanna kiss me?” he asks, an exaggerated amount of hurt in his voice.

Damien exhales, weary of Shayne’s teasing but relieved by his lack of dissent. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though,” he snorts.

The room dissolves into silence, practically guaranteeing an agreement, but Damien still waits longer for a response. He watches Shayne’s chest rise and fall, almost slowing into sleep, until Damien pokes his arm. “So? Are we telling her or what?”

Shayne’s eyelids flutter open. He stares at the ceiling as if there’s something there to watch, something to tell him what they should do. “I don’t know, Damien,” he says after a while. “I don’t know if I can face her like that. But whatever you tell her, and whenever you decide to do it… I’ll go along with it. ‘Cause I trust that you know what’s best for everyone.”

“Thanks, man. That… actually means a lot.”

They spend a moment in cozy, comfortable quiet until Shayne yawns and shifts in the mattress. “Alright, I’m gonna pass out now. Daddy needs his sleep juice,” he sighs.

A noise halfway between a laugh and cough slips out Damien’s mouth. “Make sure to never say that to me ever again, thanks,” he quips.

“What, ‘Daddy needs his sleep juice’?”

“Ugh, gross.”

They chuckle and move around in the sheets one last time, comfortable enough in each other’s presence to skip the _good night_ ’s—but then again, Damien’s never really sure how long it takes for Shayne to fall asleep, and it wouldn’t make sense to say good night if they’re only going to be laying awake in bed for another hour. Damien knows that at least he’ll be up until then, now that he’s got a choice to make.

Sleep catches up with him sooner than the decision, however, and he finds himself so incredibly tired, even more tired than he was before there was a decision to make. He feels his mind slowing, sees the walls turning blurry and dark. He’s almost completely submerged in the murky reaches of sleep when Shayne rolls over into his space, breath warm against his chest. It sets off an alarm in Damien’s brain, though a tiny, permissible one at that. And in the split second between fear and fatigue, Damien doubts if he ever really knew what was best for them in the first place.

~

The next morning, Damien wakes up with Shayne in his arms. Shayne stirs awake, laughing when Damien tries to disentangle their limbs, and they both decide joking about their impromptu cuddling session is better for them than addressing the awkwardness of it. It’s an interesting experience, to say the least. But it’s nothing compared to later that night.

They arrive at the Strip at eleven. Vegas Boulevard is dense, vibrating with liquor and holiday energy. Between the booming speakers of the street and the volume of the crowd, Damien can barely hear his own voice over the noise. He decides to keep quiet as Aubrey leads them through the horde to a decent waiting spot. At one point they find a small section that isn’t completely packed, and as Aubrey waits for them to rejoin, Shayne leans in and brings his mouth close to Damien’s ear.

“You alright?” he asks.

Washed in the red lighting of a marquee sign, they face each other. Damien smiles, brows slanting in the middle, and now it's his turn to lean into Shayne's space. “I’ve felt better,” he says, only half-joking. He earns a sorry smile and shrug from Shayne. Damien understands; there’s always some level of unavoidable discomfort attached to New Year's Eve.

Bodies close, they continue to trudge through the crowd. At one point, they knock arms, and instead of carrying on as usual, Shayne slips his hand into Damien’s. “I might lose you if I don't,” Shayne explains, his smile small yet unapologetic. The wording and the perceived naturalness of it all makes Damien’s brain short-circuit, but Shayne pulls him along before he can process it.

After what feels like an entire night of migrating, Aubrey turns on her heel and faces the boys. “This is my first and last New Year's on the strip, might as well make it good,” she shrugs, grinning at Shayne and Damien. “And I guess this is for you, too.”

For the first time that night, Shayne and Damien look around and absorb the atmosphere of the Strip. With its glowing signs and impressive architecture, the multimillion display catches their eye like anyone else. Underneath it all, however, lies a sort of grit that only these well-walked streets know best. The crowd celebrates all of it, revels in the cold and the lights and the music. It places Shayne and Damien in a weird community of no-longer-strangers.

“Wow,” Shayne breathes. Damien shares the sentiment so clearly in bones that he has to react. He squeezes Shayne’s hand with the faith that Shayne will know exactly what he means. _I see it, too,_ the gap between their fingers whispers. _I’m experiencing this with you, too._

And for twenty minutes, that’s what this is for them—taking it in, standing silent in the chaos of the crowd; feeling small, yet feeling like an integral part of a bigger picture; then trying to imagine it all gone tomorrow, just some mess in a street cleaner’s dustpan. Twenty minutes is a long time to dwell on these things, and an even longer time to be holding hands with your best friend.

It’s at T minus one minute that Damien finally recognizes the weight of it all, of Shayne’s hand in his and the crowd stirring about them. Sixty more seconds doesn’t just mean hanging up a new calendar, he realizes. Sixty more seconds means a kiss. And Shayne has no idea.

At least that’s what it feels like, when Damien looks over and finds Shayne in a strangely zen state. Maybe he’s lost in the lights, or maybe he’s just trying his best to tune out the crowd, but either way Damien hates knowing that he’ll be the one to ruin it. He takes two big breaths before whispering Shayne’s name, then yelling it.

“Shayne,” he chokes. “Shayne, I never told Aubrey.”

Processing Damien’s words, Shayne turns and blinks at him. He frowns as if a question sits on his tongue, but Damien answers it before he can ask it.

“I was planning to tell her, but I didn’t,” he blurts. “I don't know why.”

Shayne pauses. Then his face spreads into a smile, soft and reassuring. “Hey, I said I’d follow along with whatever you did, right? This isn’t a big deal. We're all good.”

“But… the kiss. And Aubrey.”

“She’s off having fun. We don’t have to worry about her.”

Damien scans his surroundings, and sure enough, Aubrey is chatting it up with a group of girls nearby. Maybe Shayne’s right and they don’t have to worry about her. In fact, Damien is glad Aubrey can spend New Year’s with strangers whose presence she actually enjoys. But as the countdown drops to ten and he notices that Shayne’s hand is still in his, Damien realizes Shayne never acknowledged a kiss.

So the seconds tick to nine, and Damien’s mind is running a million miles a minute.

Eight, and he feels like barfing.

Seven, and Aubrey disappears into the crowd.

Six, and they can’t find a reason to pretend they’re a couple.

Five, and the crowd grows louder.

Four, and Shayne looks at Damien.

Three, and Damien looks back.

Two, and Shayne lets go of Damien’s hand.

One, and everything freezes.

_Happy New Year!_

Damien jumps at the sensation of two hands on his face—one warm, one cold—plus Shayne’s face, getting closer and closer until it’s right there. Then everything blurs, because Shayne actually kisses him, _hard_ , as the crowd erupts into cheers.

It’s their first and only kiss, an experience new and strange like the year. But maybe the crowd is pushing them closer, or his lungs are getting too heavy with alcoholic air, because Damien thinks he might just be kissing Shayne back.

As soon as they meet, a pop of fireworks pulls them apart. Light floods them in streams, ridding their faces of shadows and painting them with color. Rather magically, the crowd whoops and laughs as the the first snowfall in a decade sets down in Vegas. Shayne and Damien don’t hear them, too distracted by the taste of chocolate on their lips. And they don’t say anything when they turn their eyes to the sky, because talking might just reveal a terrifying truth—

—that maybe, they didn't mind the kiss at all.

~

The next day, Damien wakes up to an empty bed. The memories of last night sneak up on him like the morning chill, and with each second spent blinking away his fatigue, he finds himself unable to think of anything but Shayne.

His best friend, Shayne. His fake boyfriend, Shayne. The person he kissed at midnight last night amidst a crowd of thousands, Shayne. The thought makes Damien’s throat constrict, though he can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign. He rolls out of bed thinking some coffee should clear his mind, though not without taking note of Shayne’s jacket missing from the coat hook.

“You’re up fairly early today,” he says once he makes it downstairs, his feet shuffling against the cold kitchen floor. Aubrey, standing at the window, looks over her shoulder and manages a sleepy smile.

“I could say the same for you. The entire time you guys have been here, you’ve been sleeping like logs,” she teases.

Damien shrugs. “Ah, well. I’m still not sure when we’re heading out today, but I figure we better leave early before we overstay our welcome even more than we already have.”

“Oh, hush. I wouldn’t have said this when I first met you, but you guys are the sweetest company any girl could ever ask for, and I mean it,” she coos, pulling Damien in for a squeeze. Touched and only slightly surprised by Aubrey’s sincerity, he returns the embrace before stepping away and scanning the kitchen. His eyes must give it away, because Aubrey knows exactly what he’s came here for. “One last cup of coffee?” she offers.

“Please,” Damien laughs. “And if you could, please make it two. I know for a fact Shayne is gonna need it for later. Actually, do you know where–”

“Backyard,” Aubrey says, tossing Damien one of her signature smiles. “He’s been out there for a while. I think he’s waiting for you. Maybe wants to talk about that whole fake-dating thing.”

For a hot second, Damien thinks it’s the exhaustion getting to him. But then Aubrey looks up at him to gauge his reaction, and he knows he heard right. “Wait, you…?” he sputters.

“Of course I do. I know I’ve done some stupid shit, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tell a fake relationship from a real one. Though I guess it did seem real, at times.” She grows quiet, letting the coffee drain into the mugs. Damien blinks at the steam, then at Aubrey, staring curiously at the dreary landscape outside. He wants to ask her what she means, but then she turns and pushes the mugs into his hands. “You better head out there. He might freeze if you take any longer.”

It’s no exaggeration, Damien realizes as he steps outside with his coffee in hand. The cold clings to him and tries to settle in his skin, making it all the more shocking to see Shayne sitting unaffected on the back porch bench. Shayne turns only to face the sound at his side, but he returns his focus straight ahead as soon as Damien moves to sit beside him.

“Hey, boyfriend,” Damien murmurs, smiling.

“Hey.” Shayne’s eyes slide to Damien’s hands. “Could one of those be mine, by any chance? I’m actually freezing my balls off over here.”

Damien snorts, handing a mug to his friend. “You could’ve stayed in bed for a bit longer, y’know. Would’ve been the last time I get to warm it up for you.”

The joke tastes sour on Damien’s tongue, even more so when Shayne reacts to it with nothing but a quiet sip of his coffee. “Yeah, well,” he mutters afterwards. “Wouldn’t want to get too used to it.”

Damien looks ahead, ignoring the drowning sensation in his chest as best as he can, but he can only last so long before taking a breath. “Shayne, something’s up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Do you want to talk about it as much as I do?”

Shayne’s eyes flicker to Damien. “Probably. Depends what ‘it’ entails.”

“I mean, for starters…” Tapping his thumb against his thigh, Damien looks before them to the empty yard, darkened by the clouds above. He swallows. “We kissed.”

Shayne shakes his head. “I know, and I was the one who initiated it and I shouldn’t have done it, not even for this stupid act. It was a boundary I knew you had and I crossed it. I’m sorry.”

“Is it weird that I don’t think I’m upset about it?” Damien asks. “No, I know I’m not upset about it. I’m just, like… Well, you probably already know the feeling.”

“I do.” Shayne hesitates, then rests his mug beside him on the bench. Dipping his head, he braces his hands against the cold metal of the seat. “All this wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to get that Airbnb cabin, and spend our winter vacation doing cool shit, and then go back to LA feeling better than ever. But now I’m just… _everything_ is just… weird.”

“Yeah, ‘weird’ would be the word I’d use to describe this entire situation.” Damien leans forward, bringing his shoulders level with Shayne’s. “‘Weird’, and something else.”

They sit wordless and watch the sway of the trees in the morning wind. The world seems to sit with them, exhausted by the celebrations of last night. It’s almost relaxing, but then Shayne’s hand twitches against the bench. “What exactly would that something else be?” he asks.

Damien pauses at the sound of hope in Shayne’s voice, and then at the feeling of his senses lighting aflame because of the fact. He doesn’t understand any of it, but he trusts that it exists and they perceive it, that the years of friendship and the one week of fake-dating has made them masters of things left unsaid.

 _And what do we want to say?_ Damien closes his eyes and sees last night. He sees snowflakes, and fireworks, and a boy struck silent because all he wants to do is kiss Damien again, and again, and again. But Damien wants him to, wants so badly for another night where Shayne can kiss him and Damien can kiss him back the right way. So he opens his eyes with Shayne’s hopeful voice ringing in his ears, and all of a sudden the answer has never felt so tangible before them.

“Think about it like this,” he starts, heart hammering a million times a minute. “After this… after today. This whole thing between us is supposed to be over. And that part, I was expecting. But now there’s something else, something unexpected, that makes me think that maybe,” Damien looks up, a glimmer in his eyes, “I don’t want it to be over.”

“Oh.” One word, and Damien nearly faints in suspense, but then Shayne lets out something that sounds like a chuckle. Smiling, he meets Damien’s eyes. “I think neither of us do, right?” he asks.

“ _Oh,_ ” Damien echoes. A weight lifts from his chest and sends him flying, bursting into the air. It gives him the courage to smile back, giddier than ever. “I don’t know,” Damien teases, bumping his shoulder against Shayne’s. “Kiss me for real this time and maybe I’ll make up my mind.”

Shayne hesitates, just for a second, as his eyes flicker down to Damien’s mouth. Then he looks back up and sees Damien looking at him just as intensely. _Oh,_ Shayne thinks once he senses the distance between them closing. _Oh oh oh oh oh oh._

It’s terrifying, letting his eyes drift shut, letting himself fall. But _god,_ it sure is worth it as Damien leans in and kisses him for the second first time.

Their noses are running and their lips are chapped and Damien’s hand stings along Shayne’s jaw but it’s _perfect_ , warming their insides better than any cup of coffee. Shayne’s hand across Damien’s back brings them closer while Damien angles his head, deepening the kiss. The intimacy and the tenderness of it all—they could live in it forever. And it almost does feel like forever, the second they break away.

Wary of the delicate, crystalline air between them, they sit there with eyes closed and foreheads together. Damien shifts, wanting to press another kiss against Shayne’s lips, but the nervous bubble in his gut decides against it. His eyes flutter open as he fully leans away, and Shayne seems just as lost in his green as he is with Shayne’s blue.

“What just happened?” Shayne breathes. Damien can tell it’s a legitimate question, but the longer they stare enamoured with each other, the less important it becomes to answer it.

“Well, we pretended we were a couple so that we could stay in some stranger’s house. But I’m assuming you’re talking about how we just kissed,” Damien jokes. A tiny smile spreads across his face in the absurdity of it all, and Shayne chuckles quietly in response.

“Yeah, how’d that happen?”

Damien’s answer is simple, floating soft out his mouth like snow in the morning. He curls his numbing fingers around Shayne’s and grins.

“I fell.”

~

Exactly one year later, Aubrey allows herself to sleep in.

Okay, that’s not true; in actuality, she got amazingly drunk last night and her hangover is preventing her from leaving her bed at any time before eleven in the morning. In her defense, it’s only expected that a Las Vegas resident like her go all out for New Year’s.

But it’s for this reason that not she, but her girlfriend finds a package in their mailbox, addressed from two guys in LA.

“Hey, babe,” she calls, treading into their bedroom. “Who’s Damien and Shayne, and why are they sending you mail?”

Spam mail, Aubrey presumes, and then the names click. She raises her head from her pillow. “Damien and Shayne? Wait, are their names spelled with–”

“An ‘e’ and a ‘y’. Go and open it, you seem excited enough.”

Sitting up in bed a bit too quickly ( _ouch_ ), Aubrey takes the package from her girlfriend and strips away the tape. Behind the cardboard flaps sit three items: a tube of old-fashioned oats, a bag of semisweet chocolate chips, and an envelope sealed with a Lee Canyon sticker.

“No fucking way,” Aubrey sputters, a smile spreading on her face. Her girlfriend hovers over her, clearly intrigued and even more confused, but Aubrey rips open the envelope with no intent of explaining.

A thick stack of dollar bills catches her eye first. _Just CHIPping in. For the week you had to accommodate us,_ the sticky note on top reads. _Don’t gamble it all away! Or do, it’s yours, anyway._ She sets the money on her bed and snorts at the gambling part; outsiders never really see Vegas for much other than bright lights and slot machines.

She peers inside the envelope for the next item, and to her surprise, it looks like a letter. Her former visitors never stuck her as letter-writers, yet here she is, unfolding a piece of copy paper with a handwritten message inside.

_Hey Aubrey!_

_Hope your holidays have been sweet. We just wanted to write you a n-oat saying that we still remember how generous you were by letting us into your home last year. Hopefully it’s not too choco-late to say thank you!_

**Damien wrote that part above. He spent ten minutes on it. Insert cookie pun here.**

**But in all seriousness, we’re so grateful that we got to spend New Year’s with you last year. It was sort of messed up how we lied to you about the whole couple thing and we still feel INCREDIBLY BAD about it. But at the same time, it changed us in lots of ways, and after everything, we’re kind of glad that our Airbnb flaked on us in the first place.**

_^_ _Big_ _ditto. I don’t think we’d be as happy as we are now if we never met you. And while we’re super sorry about the circumstances under which all that happened, we’re still really happy._ **Really, really happy. :)**

**So have some cookies on us (that’ll you’ll still have to make yourself, sorry again) and maybe write back to us. If you ever lose our address, just remember that Damien plays video games for a living and you can probably find our PO box through the Internet.**

_I don’t play video games for a living. Okay, maybe I do. But Shayne does sketch comedy for a living, which is marginally worse._ **It’s not.** _It is._

_Thanks again! Happy New Year’s!_

_Love, Damien and_ **Shayne (your favorite actually-gay couple)**

Aubrey laughs. She opens the envelope to place the items back inside for safekeeping, but then she spots a third thing. Sitting in the corner, like the tiniest of afterthoughts—

It’s a small picture, with one edge uneven like it was cut out from a sheet. In it, Shayne smiles widely as Damien presses a kiss to his jaw. Everything about the photo—their eyes closed in bliss, their bodies pressed together, the tremendous amount of happiness captured in just one instance… it screams of two people in love, free and unashamed.

“Damn,” the woman beside her says. “How come we don’t have any pictures like that?”

“No idea,” Aubrey replies, a soft smile on her lips. “But I guess these two are special, after all. And they’re going up on our fridge.”

It’s not easy for Aubrey to gain a steady footing, but she and her girlfriend head downstairs nevertheless. She searches for a good magnet to pair with the photo, only to find the perfect candidate: a firework burst. She thinks maybe it looks a bit strange, having a picture of two nondescript guys kissing on their refrigerator. For her, though, it fits right in.

“There,” Aubrey’s girlfriend says as Aubrey steps away to admire the photo. “I don’t know who they are, but they practically live with us now.”

Aubrey laughs and shakes her head. “God, you have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh? A playlist I made while writing this fic? Yes, it's real! Listen to it on Spotify at https://open.spotify.com/user/woohoojazelyn/playlist/1XLDG3itixnw3C2PWlDTeE?si=d5rJHnnBQGOSg7rzw5tmkw
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! Please leave a comment if you did, and if you'd like, check out my Tumblr blog @shaymiens :>


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